Freiheit
by kingshultz
Summary: There was no future for him, no hope. His freedom, which was the biggest treasure a man could possess was taken away from him, together with all the fire of his being, the fire that kept him going forward, or trying. There was no hope. Until she came.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1 **

_Felt like the weight of the world was on my shoulders_  
_Should I break or retreat and then return_  
_Facing the fear that the truth, I discover_  
_No telling how, all these will work out_  
_But I've come too far to go back now._

_T_he heat washing Django's back caused him to sweat, and made everything around him out of focus. It was hard, trying to keep his breath steady but he did it, either way, aware of all the cruel white men staring at him in amusement, their yellow teeth exposed as they smiled in such a way that made Django's stomach turn. There was no future for him, no hope. His freedom, which was the biggest treasure a man could possess was taken away from him, together with all the fire of his being, the fire that kept him going forward, or trying. He had tried to run away, more than once. The scars on his back proved that.

- Hear 'bout the nigga 'gurl Carrucan got? Some sayin' the bitch speaks German. - He heard one of the men speak, after spitting on the ground, a very uncomfortable habit. What he said caught Django's attention, but he didn't look away from the cotton he was working on. There were severe punishments for slaves that took breaks.

- The Hilly one? Ain't she the one gettin' here today?

Before Carl, short and stupid, could answer his question, Adeline, a fat and middle-aged black woman appeared in a white dress, and careful not to touch any of them, said quietly, and submissively:

- Sir Carrucan askin' for you, he sayin' Lydia need to get "whip"d.

Carl and Smitt glanced at each other, smirking slightly, and Django felt his insides twist again. It took him everything not to kill them right there and then with his own hands. But he had never killed anyone and they weren't gonna be the first ones. _Not worth it_.

A few minutes later, he looked up at the sky, noticing how everything was suddenly devoid of sound, and he knew immediately what was coming. He shut his eyes, as did some other slaves around him, shuddering when a woman's piercing scream echoed through the cotton-field.

* * *

_B_roomhilda looked beautiful in her white dress, hair curled up softly in dark waves. The dress contrasted with her chocolate skin, making it glow considerably. She looked appropriately beautiful, as supposed to, since her old owner had told the buyer that she was "pretty". It was expected that she at least looked more than presentable to her new owner, for she knew what would happen if she wasn't up to his expectations. Hester Sue, a slim, black woman not much older than 21 years old, fixed Hilda's dress, looking at her reflection lovingly.

- Imma miss you, 'gurl. You take care out there. Don't do nothin' that gonna get you in trouble.

She nodded as if she was paying attention, but all she had in mind was the idea of new chains around, not her body, but her soul.

With a kiss on the cheek, Hester Sue leaded Hilde out of the door, toward Bobby, the skinny, dirty blonde haired man that worked with the chickens. Or if you will, supervised the slaves that worked with the chickens, just waiting for an opportunity to snap his whip on their backs, no pun intended. Careful not to mess up Hilde's shoes with the mud, Bobby lifted her up, placing her on the brown horse, making sure to run his hands through her body before letting her go. He spoke to her, and although she could not understand what he said - the man spoke as if he had just drank 10 bottles of tall beer - she knew it wasn't pleasant.

No one in the farm was happy about seeing a nigga on a horse, but she had no other choice, for she had to arrive at her new owner's farm looking shiny as a new penny. She felt uncomfortable on top of such a big creature, she had never even rode a horse in her life before, but she knew Bobby didn't give a damn about her fear. It would probably give him a few good laughs to see her fall, but she doubted he would let it happen. He couldn't let the mud mess up a slave's look, not one that was considered "pretty", at least. So he would have to leave it to some other time.

She grabbed the horse's strap, holding on to it with her dear life, as Bobby rode his own horse, causing the one she sat on top of to walk behind him. She took a few breathes, and forced herself not to look down, or back. She knew it wasn't for fear of falling as much as it was the fear of seeing the path she was leaving behind, the path that mocked her, telling her there was a new type of suffering ahead of her. In a few hours trip, she would meet her new master, and would know what she'd be dealing with. _God only knew how scared she was_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_I am looking for freedom, looking for freedom_  
_And to find it cost me everything I have_  
_Well I am looking for freedom, looking for freedom_  
_And to find it, may take everything I have_

_M_ichael Carrucan wasn't used to spending money on new slaves. He had his own, and he didn't enjoy the idea of spending any of his precious bills on niggas unless he was in need of them for some type of work, but this one, this one had interested him. She wasn't ugly, that was for sure, but he wasn't attracted to slaves. What caught his attention was her peculiar skill. He, himself couldn't speak German, nor did he know anyone from his cycle of "friends" that could. The idea of a slave being able to both angered and intrigued him. So he bought her. She wasn't expensive, only cost 400 dollars, and he liked the thought of having a German speaking nigga at his home.

"_She better be good_," he thought to himself. "_Bad niggas ain't worth shit, not in my farm._"

Since she was good looking, too, he could take advantage of that and use her as a house worker. And even though he wasn't one to fuck his slaves, he could consider doing it if she was all that pretty. After all, it was his slave, and he could do as he pleased with them. A door opening sound distracted him from his indecent thoughts, and he turned around, only to see Candace, one of his nigga girls, all dressed in her maid outfit, standing there, a big, fake smile on her face. There was red lipstick on her teeth, which bothered him quite a bit, but he ignored it, going straight to the point.

- _What you want_?

- The girl Sir Carrucan "buyed" is here, Sir. - She said, in her high pitched voice. His eyes sparkled lightly behind the yellow glasses, and he smiled widely.

- Thank you, Candance.

- Welcome, Sir Carrucan, Sir. - She told him, smiling wider and gesturing to the door, so he could walk past it. He kept smiling all the way downstairs, looking forward to meeting his German speaking nigga. But his smile wasn't coming from excitement in hearing the language; It was coming from his indecent ideas, ideas that suddenly seemed to him, _extremely tempting_...

* * *

_T_rying with everything she had to stop her hands from shaking, Broomhilda stared at all the slaves around her. They shot her looks, and she thought she could see, in their eyes, pity. She frowned at the ground, and tried to ignore it. Bobby had his arm around her waist, and pushed her forward quite roughly. He smelled of vodka, and sweat, and it disgusted her, but she could do nothing except to pretend it didn't make her want to throw up the small amount of food she had eaten earlier that day. She wasn't smiling, and she wondered if that would bother her new master. She considered doing it for a second, but immediately gave the thought up. If he wanted her to smile, let him tell her to. Wasn't he her master, after all?

Bobby stopped in front of the big, white house, and leaned down to whisper in her ear, making her shudder as she felt his bad breath on her face.  
- You be good, bitch. Carrucan ain't as soft as Montgomery. Ain't he gonna take you back if you fuck up either, so watch ya' shit.

She didn't answer, and he grabbed her arm, growling at her face. She kept her eyes down.

- You look at me when I talk to you, bitch. - He said, but before she could react, an old man came walking from the house, wearing a white suit, and yellow glasses, even though it was dark outside. Bobby immediately let her go, and straightened his body. She was confused for a moment, until she realized that was probably her new owner.

He was old, and skinny, but exhaled a strange power that made her want to take a few steps back. He walked up to them, slowly, using a red stick to support himself. First, he glanced at Bobby, but not for long. His eyes, then, drifted to Broomhilda, who stood shyly but firmly, staring at the ground. His permanent smile became wider once he saw her figure, and his indecent thoughts swirled around his head, causing him to hold back a laugh.

-_ Guessin' you are my special nigger?!_ - He said, extremely loudly, causing her to look up at him, in shock. He had a raspy voice, but she noticed then that he could, if he wanted, to be loud and that frightened her.

- You answer Sir Carrucan when he speaks to you. - Bobby said to her, angrily, but the old man shot him a warning look, and he shut himself up. He looked back at Hilde, and spoke in a soft voice, a voice that no matter how soft and quiet was, would not fool her:

- She only shy, ain't she, my beautiful girl. - He walked closely to her and glanced at her body, covered in white fabric. He wondered what she looked like under the trousers, and it was as if she could almost hear what he was thinking, since she looked down in embarrassment.

- Nah, nah, nah, don't be shy... You gon' open up real soon for me, ain't you, sweetheart? - He told her, smiling, and she held back a barf, as she understood the double meaning of his sentence.

- You like fightin', nigga? We gon' give you a motherfuckin' fight. - A voice distracted them, and Broomhilda, Carrucan and Bobby all looked at the same direction. One of the white men that worked at the farm was holding one of the slaves, and pushing him down into the ground, as he tried forcibly to escape.

- What "tha" fuck is goin' on here? - Carrucan screamed, and Hilde confirmed that he could, indeed, be loud if he pleased. The white man's body straightened and he looked up from the slave's body, lying down on the ground. In a moment of pure fear and shock, Broomhilda wondered if he was dead.

- This nigga, Sir, was fightin' with one of our men...

- I ain't give a fuck what the fuck he was doin', why'd you bring him here? I have a motherfucking visit, for fuck sake!

Hilde thought to herself lightly if the "visit" he meant was Bobby or her. She thought that this man could see her as anything, except a visit.

- Sir Carrucan, Sir, I'm sorry, I...

- Get him the fuck out of here and give him some whips if you please, but get out!

- Yes, Sir Carrucan, Sir. - Said the man, quickly, trying to lift up the, Hilde hoped, passed out body.

- Now, now, where were we...

- Who was that? - Spoke Broomhilda, for the first time, to both Bobby and Carrucan's shock. She wondered if asking about that could get her in trouble but she couldn't help herself. Thankfully, her owner did not look mad, only confused.

- Who was what?

She swallowed thickly, and considered another time whether she should or not ask him about that. Not being able to resist her curiosity, she told him:

- The man. The one passed out.

- Ah... - Said Carrucan, glancing at the unconscious body his worker was now carrying to the other side of the field.

- _Hey, Riley, who the nigga you carryin' "wit" ya?_

The man looked up, like a doe in front of the gaze of a lion, and muttered something. Since he was distant from the three of them, Carrucan ordered him to speak louder.

- Django, Sir! - He yelled.

- Goddammit... This motherfuckin' nigga always causin' shit. - He said to himself, turning red for a second.

- Who's Django? - She asked, and Carrucan shot her an annoyed look, which caused her to stop. Great, she thought, I made him mad. However, he took a few breathes and smiled at her, offering his hand.

- No one you wanna know, sweetheart. - He said, in a silent warning, and adverted to do so, she placed her hand on top of his, shuddering slightly as his cold, skinny fingers wrapped around hers. He dismissed Bobby, and walked her to the inside of the house, speaking with glee about the wonders of his plantation. She nodded as if she was listening, when really she was thinking was about that passed out slave, Django.

She wondered what it was that was so bad that made Carrucan lose his cool, even if for a second. She decided that whatever it was, she didn't want to know. All she knew is she had to stay away from him, _Django_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 **

_I know all too well, it don't come easy  
The chains of the world they seem to movin' tight  
I try to walk around if I'm stumbling so come  
tryin' to get up but the doubt is so strong  
there's gotta be a winning in my bones  
_

_C_arrucan wanted her.

She didn't know yet, but he did, and every second, the ideas revolving around his mind grew dirtier, sicker. He didn't know why he was willing to take that girl, what was so special about her — she was beautiful alright but she wasn't the first good looking nigga girl he had come across. But there was something about the look of innocence on her face, the big, doe eyes, staring at him as if they could look into his soul. He wanted to _break her in_. It excited him. He wondered what she would feel like, wondered if she was a virgin. She sure looked like a virgin, but he assumed her previous owners have had the same thoughts he was having, so he doubted she would be. Still, it wouldn't take away the pleasure of sex, especially if the one he'd do it with, or do it _to_, considering his intentions, happened to be as good looking as she was.

He smiled to himself as he watched her serve the table. The trousers were the usual ones his nigga girls wore, but he wanted_ her_, which caused the black maid-dress to hug her curves perfectly, bringing his attentions to her hips, her ass, and her "damn well round", he thought, breasts. He wasn't aware, but she could notice him staring. It bothered her, but she couldn't afford to be embarrassed, for she was his property and him staring wasn't the worst thing he could do.

The people around him chattered and laughed, and the slaves were obedient, serving them wine, cake, wine. Carrucan called Hilde to his chair a little bit too often, using the excuse of wanting more water, when his cup was as full as it was when the dinner started. He'd watch as she'd lean over, and would pretend to be politely surprised to notice the cup was still full.

- I "heared" one of your niggers talk French, Mike? - Said a black bearded man, his mouth full of cake. Carrucan was forced to look away from Hilde, though with reluctance. "German.", he corrected him.

- Ah. - The man nodded, and Hilde could see he probably couldn't either see the difference between one language and another. "Well, girl, talk a little german!"

- Georgie, please, you don't even talk German, why talk if you ain't know it? - Said a blonde woman on the other side of the table, making everyone else laugh, except the slaves. Hilde was slightly relieved that she wouldn't have to speak to any of the white people. She was afraid her nervousness would cause her to stutter, and would cause her to embarrass herself. Of course, even if she made any mistakes, no one in the room would notice, but she didn't want to risk it. "Ah," he said, laughing, "just wanna know if she ain't lyin' 'bout that."

- You think I'd buy her if I wasn't sure? - Carrucan told him, coldly, and everyone in the table stopped laughing. Broomhilda looked at him, wide eyes in surprise, noticing his sudden change. _Yes_, she thought to herself, shivering lightly, _he know how to scare. _

- I, uhm... - The man begun speaking, clearly pale and Carrucan burst into loud laughing. Everyone in the table was confused, frozen for a second, but eventually laughed along. Hilde saw the scene in mute surprise.

- I'm jus' kiddin', jus' kiddin'. Hilde here kinda shy. Ain't that right, Hilde, dear?

- That right, Sir Carrucan, Sir. - She said, obediently, and at the sound of her voice, everyone in the room turned their eyes in her direction causing her to feel nervous and flushed. In her head, she tried to find something that could get her out of there.

- Sir Carrucan? - She called, and looked down at him as sweetly as she could, hoping it would soften him enough to answer to her request. "Can I excuse myself for a second?"

He looked at her, caught off guard by her vocabulary, and agreed she could. Any other nigga who asked him that would only get some laughs and most likely even get punished, but he was being soft with her, therefore he let her go. It would change soon enough once he got what he wanted from her, but he was willing to wait. At least for now. She warily walked away, slightly bothered by the looks being shot at her by the white people around the table, but relieved that she had found her way out of the room. The other house-slaves looked at her in a mix of confusion and something that reminded her of maybe, offended surprise or jealousy even. She kept her head down, and walked out, not knowing where she would be going, but wanting to get away from all these people that suffocated her. She only let herself take a deep breathe once she was already out of the room.

* * *

_H_e was not intending on giving up anytime soon. He had indeed been caught trying to run away, and he had been punished and it was not pleasant but he wasn't gonna stop until he found his way out, whether it was of the plantation or the slave life. Maybe he would die trying but it was better than having to spend his existence serving these demons, like a devil worship pact. He'd heard tell about the new slave Carrucan had acquired and was positive she was going to be one of the white-loving niggas, that followed their masters like dogs, and did everything for them as if they carried the belief that these people actually cared about them. He couldn't spend time worrying about that, though, for he had to attempt his escape. It was a good timing — Sir Carrucan had gathered guests to show off his new nigga girl and they were all too drunk and distracted to notice anything suspicious going on somewhere in the field. So he took that as an opportunity to run away, as if God himself had brought this girl to the plantation only to make sure Django could find his way out.

- You ain't s'posed to be doin' that, you know? - He heard a feminine, slightly raspy voice say behind him, which made him freeze the slightest bit. But since he was goin' to hell, might aswell hug the devil. He kept fighting against the plants, trying to sneak into the bushes. "You deaf?"

The woman speaking didn't sound much like a slaver, and anybody who was and saw him trying to do what he was trying to do would immediately yell, and try to get him out. That woman in particular didn't seem to care much for that; she just stood still, talking to him. That caught his attention.

Looking over his shoulder, he saw a beautiful nigga girl, in the usual costume worn by the house slaves. She had big, dark eyes, full lips, a perfectly shaped face, a small nose. Her curves were flawfree, aswell. He was stunned. He'd seen pretty girls before, of course, but there was just something there. His first urge was to protect her, but he somehow managed to mask that and put on a sarcastic expression that he was slightly good at. He was quite the sarcastic one himself, but he never got the chance to show that and if he did, someone'd manage to get him whipped to remember never to be daring again.

- Ain't you s'posed to be servin' the whites? - He asked her, and she seemed to only notice then and there that she was still wearing that ridiculous out fit. "I came here to get me some air." She told him.

He burst out laughing.

- What? - She asked him, confused and a bit irritated, for he looked like he was poking fun at her. He kept laughing, and she had to admit he was quite the handsome man. He wasn't shirtless, but his muscles were evident against the thin fabric of the shirt. He wasn't _too _strong. Slightly slim, with proportionately big muscles, beautiful muscles, if you will. His hair was quite big, and it was sticking up, in a strangely sweet way. She somehow also noticed small freckles all over the skin of his face, and looking at him, her attention was drawn to his smile. He had a gorgeous smile. _But_ he was poking fun at her.

- You came to get yo'self some air? And he let you out?

- I thought it was strange, too, at first but...

- But he tryina get yo' ass in his bed. - He finished it for her, and she frowned at him, opening her mouth to argue but being unable to. He was right, after all. She couldn't argue with that. "Lucky you." He said, mockingly, and she blushed in anger.

- At least I ain't the one tryina' sneak through those damn bushes!

- At least I ain't the one lettin' an old ass man put it in my...

- _IT'S NOT LIKE THAT_! - She finally screamed, losing her patience. That man was infuriating. He knew nothing about her or what she had been through. Nothing. "You ain't even know me!"

- I know your type. That enough for me.

- My type? What, I ain't the first German speakin' nigga 'gal you seen?

She expected him to say something back at her, something to annoy her but he didn't. He just stared, for a minute that seemed way too long, and said nothing. She waited for him to speak but once she realized he wasn't going to, she spoke first, feeling uncomfortable and exposed. "What?"

He smiled, looking at her in a way that got her to shiver slightly, and said:

"I didn't know you were sound."

* * *

_I_t had been awhile since Broomhilda had left the dining room, and the guests were already leaving. Carrucan was, of course, being nice when he let her leave, only to succeed in what he was planning on doing, but his patience wasn't eternal, and he wasn't happy about the time she was taking "getting some air". A lot of things could be happening, but what was running through his head was the idea of her trying to run away and that displeased him deeply. He couldn't let her do anything she wanted just so he could get her on his bed. He had other ways, and they didn't include her _wanting_ to. He was being too nice to her and thought she better appreciate it, 'cause it would not last much longer. After saying goodbye to the last guest, Carrucan took his napkin off his lap, handing it over to Gretta, a small and skinny black girl that didn't look older than 16, maybe 17 years old. He walked out of the dining room, and supporting his weight on his cane, headed to the field. In a way, he wished the girl wasn't trying to escape, so he wouldn't have to get her whipped and mark her back, but on the other hand, the idea of taking her against her will excited him. He could whip her afterwards.

* * *

_D_jango wasn't all that bad, thought Broomhilda. Except she didn't know his name — she was so caught up in the conversation they were having that she forgot to even ask. He could, indeed, be fun, and interesting. He had emotional stories, and funny ones, aswell, and he was investing in telling her comic ones, for he loved to watch her laugh. She was so beautiful, and she reminded him of what an angel would look like in human form. He thought she wasn't so bad, either. He had expected a stuck up, white-loving nigga 'gal like the ones he had previously encountered; beauty, no brain. But she was intelligent, and he liked hearing her talk, aswell as liked teasing her from time to time, to appreciate her angry expression. But she was a good talker, and he missed having conversations with someone. He didn't quite know if that's how a proper conversation went like, for he had never had one, but he thought that if that was what it felt like, he wouldn't want to stop.

- You never tried runnin' away? - He asked her, both seated on the gross, her dress as a river around her.

- Did sometimes. Then I realized no good came out of it, and I stopped. I guess I lost the want to get out, or to try, at least. Tryina' run away was only goin' to end up killin' me.

He snorted, grabbing a piece of grass on the ground and twisting it. " Anythin's better than this."

She frowned slightly, but her expression softened considerably when she told him: "Not anything."

He looked up at her, and they both stared at each other for a minute. She blushed, but held his gaze, offering him a gentle smile. He didn't know, but he was smiling back.

- _What is happenin' over here?_ - They heard a raspy, too familiar voice speak from a distance. Old Carrucan was walking towards them, with an angry expression on his decrepit face. Broomhilda held her breath, and Django suddenly realized where they were. He opened his mouth, surprised to not be trying to defend himself, but _her_.

- Sir Carrucan, sir, she was just tryina'...

- I ain't talkin' to you yet, Nigga. - He cut him, coldly, and if it wasn't for the yellow glasses covering his eyes, Django thought he might aswell burn two deep holes on his face just from looking. Broomhilda seemed to be in shock, and she had nothing to say, until Carrucan spoke. As soon as she heard his sentence directed to Django, something clicked.

- Sir Carrucan, sir... I was walkin' trough the field, and I don't know much of anythin' 'round here so I trip'd and fell. He was only helpin' me up.- She lifted her leg and exposed her black, high socks. There was a small opening just around her knee, as if she had fell and the socks ripped open. Carrucan examined the socks carefully, mostly trying to look at her leg than anything else. Then he looked at Django and back at Broomhilda, narrowing his eyes slightly, but nodding seconds later. "Well... You come back inside, and help the othe' girls clean things up." He told her, and she nodded, getting up, and watching him. He didn't look back, nor at her, or Django, just walked away, and disappeared into the big house. They were both confused, but didn't argue. Only assumed it was because Carrucan was still trying to pull a nice personality, to get Broomhilda in his bed, and knock the innocence right out of her beautiful face. They were right. Partly.

- I got to go, he'll be mad if I take any longer. - She told him, in a apologetic tone. It was strange, but in such a short conversation, they already had a certain connection they couldn't quite ignore, but they weren't about to admit anytime soon. She walking away, but he grabbed her arm, making her stop. She looked at his hand on her skin, sending electricity through her body, and he pulled his hand away, as if she had burnt him. He looked at his own hand for a few seconds, and took a step back, looking back at her. "How'd you do that thing with the sock?" He asked her.

She laughed, and shrugged. "Ain't you never heard? Women know how to be sneaky."

- Hilde! - Carrucan called her name, loudly, resting his shoulder against the door. They didn't know how long he had been there for, but doubted they had heard their small trade of words. He was too far to be able to hear them. Broomhilda glanced at Django in a silent apology, and ran up to Carrucan, leaving him behind. He thought of what she had just told him, and smiling to himself, he said:

"You little troublemaker, you."


End file.
